by Purple Hazel
He then smiled and added, “Sorry to hold you up, Ranger. Just procedure, of course...you understand...it’s not like I don’t know who you are.”
“Nah, I don’t mind,” chuckled Ozzie. It felt so good to be able to laugh again and not have it cause his head to throb. “Just lookin’ forward to seein’ my gal sing. Ain’t never seen her perform; can you believe that?”
“Oh?” replied the guard, “then let me take you inside and find you a seat in the balcony, Ranger. It’s bloody dark, so stay close, okay? I’ll get you in so you can see the rest of the show. She’s literally burnin’ the place down tonight. Sings like a fuckin’ bird...still...and blimey can she move up there on that stage. Never seen anything like it!”
He then handed Ozzie a lanyard with an illuminated card suspended from it that identified him as a special guest. Ozzie followed the nimble fellow as he led the way into the bowels of the stadium, and then up a few flights of narrow stairs to a balcony booth with some folks already seated there, enjoying the show. Ozzie found a chair and watched the last few songs, in shock and disbelief, as his friend and lover wowed the hometown crowd.
“Good God almighty!” he exclaimed out loud, though no one nearby could have understood him over the roar. Shamiso was now wearing her fourth costume of the night: a miniaturized wedding dress with exposed shoulders and a white satin corset over a lacy petticoat. A full-sized wedding veil adorned her head, which she was constantly swiping away from her face as she moved about.
By now, she was at the very end of the catwalk and reaching out to touch the outreached fingertips of her adoring fans. Truly, she was a sight for sore eyes—especially to her lover, Oswaldo, who’d not seen her in nine long, lonely months.
“Oh baby! She looks amazin’!” yelled Ozzie over the din of the music and the cheering throng below. This time his neighbors in the VIP section did hear him, though, and smiled back at him. Some thought they might recognize him.
Chapter 9
V.I.P.
“Wow, Meeso! You were incredible tonight!” exclaimed Ozzie as he was led into a small private lounge next door to a large VIP reception area. Shamiso and Rudo were there sitting side-by-side in large recliners, wearing nothing but purple terry cloth bathrobes and house slippers, winding down from the rigors of the night’s performance. They were also sipping hot tea to soothe their tired vocal cords. Shamiso was still a bit hoarse from her performance when she looked up to see her lover entering the room.
“Oh my God!” squealed Shamiso, sounding almost like she had a mild case of laryngitis. “You made it! You made it! I can’t believe you got here!” She then sprang from her chair and ran over to him. Up until then, Ozzie wasn’t sure which woman to look at. Luckily, he guessed correctly. “How was the game tonight, Crumpet…over at Wembley? Did you get to play?”
Up to now, they’d been communicating through Neville, her sister’s business manager. Monika Steckel had figured out his personal electronic mail address by now and passed this information on to Ozzie; thus, while Shamiso had been touring, he’d been coordinating his next meeting with her. Knowing weeks in advance that a performance was happening the same weekend Dallas was playing London, they’d arranged for him to see her.
“Yeah, I got in...finally,” he chuckled, head starting to throb once more. “About ten minutes or so ’s all they gave me. Had fun—I guess anyway—then I got roughed up a bit, so they took me out. Had to put in the rookie they been bringin’ up outa college. After I scored I guess they diddun need me much.”
“Oh dear Lord,” she exclaimed in a motherly manner, coming over to hug him. “Did you get hurt bad? Let me take a look at you. Here, come sit down."
“Nah, I'm fine,” he replied, shaking his head with a tired smile. “Really. Trainers gave me somethin’ for my headache ’n I’m feelin’ alright now. No need to worry.”
Shamiso was now embracing him and kissing him, her head barely coming up to the base of his neck. He hugged her back, careful not to squeeze with his bruised hand and wrist. Rudo noticed this as she also rose to her feet slowly, smiling happily at her sister’s joyfulness.
Neville then jumped into the conversation. “Headache, eh? Is that what’s ailing you, mate? Well, if the pain comes back let me know. I’ve got just the thing for you. Bloody ridiculous sport by the way, Megaball. Nothin’ but big monsters out there runnin’ around bashin’ into one another. No offense, of course. But I can’t believe you’d put yourself through all that for a bloody paycheck.”
* * * *
Earlier, it’d been Neville who had greeted Ozzie in the VIP reception area. This was a large conference room inside Empire Arena designed for business seminars or meetings. Tonight, it had a massive buffet and open bar for all the special guests invited by the Rudo Love Tour. There were rich men there with their snooty wives or expensive girlfriends, members of the press waiting for a chance to interview Rudo herself, and even a few major celebrities—people who most anyone would recognize.
Of course, Ranger Guerrero likely would have, if he’d been there. However, Ozzie Guerrero had no clue who they were. Ironically, that’s precisely what made him so irresistibly charming to them, as things would turn out.
A few recognized the big athlete, mistaking him for his famous twin brother like everyone else always did, then they in turn told others. Soon, practically everyone was making their way over to greet him. His naiveté about their identities made it downright comical at times.
“Hi Ranger...Nicholas Grigsby...Global Music...pleasure to meet you, sir!” said one man in a gray suit, nursing a glass of Scotch. When he introduced himself, he had a distinguished air about him, like Ozzie should have known who he was. Not arrogant, really. Just supremely confident, as if he would have believed himself recognizable to most anyone. Ozzie was brilliant and quick-witted as ever, though. He soon had everyone laughing hysterically.
“I’m sorry…Nick-uh-liss is it?” he replied, smiling down at the man who stood barely 1.75 meters tall and looked up at Ozzie admiringly. “Grigsby?” he then clarified, and the man was almost taken aback by Ozzie’s response—that is, until he began to assume “Ranger” Guerrero was simply kidding with him. A group of corporate lackeys nearby guffawed with humored surprise. Nicholas Grigsby was the Chairman of Global Music Productions, after all! Everyone knew who Nick Grigsby was! It was his firm that had produced six of Rudo Love’s best-selling albums.
“That’s right, Ranger,” he laughed. “Or Nick, if you like. Some call me Nick.” He was so terribly overwhelmed getting to meet what he believed was the once-retired sports legend that he couldn’t help but feel awed in the fellow’s presence. His only regret was that he didn’t get to see the Megaballer play that night.
Unfortunately, his wife was a big Rudo Love fan, and she’d dragged him to the concert instead. Frankly, he’d rather have been up in a skybox watching the Wranglers beat up on those nasty London Red & Whites; however, it just wasn’t in the cards for the powerful executive. Ozzie nodded and smiled brightly, shaking the man’s hand, which literally disappeared inside his massive grip. Ozzie used his throwing hand to do it, and winced ever so slightly from the injury he’d suffered earlier. He recovered quickly, though, and looked past the man to the woman standing slightly behind him.
“And who’s this lovely young lady you brought with ya’, Nick?” Ozzie then asked, referencing what he guessed was the fellow’s middle-aged wife. The woman grinned sheepishly, as he towered over not only her but practically everyone else in the room. Sensing the opportunity to lighten the mood, Ozzie joked, “Ah I get it, this must be yer girlfriend. Don’t worry, Nick, I won’t tell nobody that you got yerself a sexy young thing on the side. Hell, I can’t blame ya’ neither. She’s a peach. So what’s yer name, darlin’? You ’n Nick been datin’ a while?” The joke went over well.
Mrs. Grigsby cackled and giggled in response. She then replied humorously in a faint Scottish accent, “Aye, goin’ on thirty-two years. Reckon I’ll keep him ar
ound a few more.” Everyone standing around them laughed heartily. At that point, Ozzie had easily won them over with his quick wit, as he shook a few more hands and then was directed to the buffet line.
“Ha-ha!” laughed Nicholas Grigsby in a youthful manner that only his wife of thirty-two years could barely recognize. This was, after all, just what he’d have expected from a big, tough warrior like Ranger Guerrero (even if it wasn’t actually him). In reality, the real Ranger would have been far more subdued, surrounded by so many muckety-mucks from British and European firms, plus some movie stars and the like who’d been invited to the party. Not Ozzie. He was military. This guy was just some fellow in a nice suit who seemed nice enough to walk up and speak with him. That’s all he cared about.
“Well, I bet you’re hungry after that match against the London side. Are you?” asked Mr. Grigsby. Ozzie nodded and smiled with his eyebrows raised like that was the best idea he’d heard all night.
“Sure am, Nick. Thank ya’ kindly. Y’all don’t mind if I go get somethin’ to eat, do ya’?” Upon saying this, the glad-handing executive backed away slightly. The group of folks now surrounding Ozzie parted like the Red Sea to let him through. “Go right ahead, Ranger. Drinks are on the house, too. All paid for by the company. Help yourself, there’s plenty.” Ozzie didn’t hesitate. He nodded at all of them, and gently slipped between, making his way to the buffet table.
Soon, several more VIP guests made their way over to congratulate him as he fixed himself a plate. One by one, they came up and shook his hand or waved politely. Shook so many hands, his hand was throbbing in pain! But Ozzie didn’t mind so much about that. He’d never seen so much fresh food in his entire life. Roasted meats. Even beef! Steamed vegetables. Real fruits. None of it replicated.
Too bad he didn’t get much of a chance to eat, though, as he’d become quite popular by then! A lot of folks wanted to meet him. Found he had to take smaller bites since he was almost constantly getting interrupted with a mouth full of food. And not long after, Neville came into the room looking for him, so he had to set his plate down for good. Ozzie grabbed a bottled soft drink on the way out, just to mask his breath, then followed the rather hurried fellow out of the room.
* * * *
“And as for you…call me crazy...but I bet I know your name,” joked Ozzie as he looked over at the one and only Rudo Kachote. She was now standing up in front of her chair with one hand on her hip—like Shamiso often did—and smiling at him warmly.
“Not surprised. I hear that a lot, Babes,” she replied with a grin. “Don’t mind it, really. Goes with being famous, I suppose.” Shamiso then released her embrace from him, and formally introduced them.
“Well crumpet, I guess you two know a lot about each other by now. Ozzie, this is my twin sister, Rudo. Sis, this is me boyfriend, Ensign Oswaldo Guerrero.” Shamiso then stood back while the two walked toward each other and embraced. It was a bizarre experience for the hulking astronaut. Taking her into his arms, it was like hugging his very own Shamiso.
“Been looking forward to this for years, lady,” he said with a warm smile, and as he did so, he bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. He then held her for a moment and kissed her forehead. “Kinda wondered if I’d ever get out here to meet you in person, as busy as I’ve been. How ya’ doin’, Rudo Kachote?”
“Well I guess I couldn’t be better, now that me sistah’s back,” she answered. “And now that you’re here, too, let me say it’s a pleasure to finally see the boy she’s been telling me so much about. Welcome to the family, Ozzie Guerrero. Ain’t never had me a brother before. Kinda cool!”
To this, Shamiso scoffed embarrassedly, but Rudo continued. She was only ribbing her sister, of course. They certainly weren’t engaged! But she just couldn’t resist the temptation to kid her. She then added sweetly, “It’s great to see how happy you’ve made my girl Shamiso. Really is. You stayin’ in town long?”
“Probably through t’morrow afternoon,” he replied with a shrug and a happy smile. “We’re supposed to fly back to Dallas at about 15:00. Ain’t too sure exactly. Coach just told us to be back b’fore curfew, that’s all I know so far. 23:00 sharp...’r we’ll get fined. We still got a game to prepare for come next Friday down in Mexico City.”
“Well then,” Rudo commented, “I reckon we best leave you two alone a while to get reacquainted, shouldn’t we?” Shamiso sighed and rolled her eyes. Rudo ignored her. “You stayin’ somewhere nearby, ain’t ya’? Got a hotel in London I suppose, right?”
“Heck yeah, we got a hotel down the street the team’s stayin’ at. Flew in yesterday evenin’ to try ’n get acclimated. Jet lag’s been a real motherfucker, let me tell ya’.”
“Oh, don’t get me started. We know all about that,” quipped Rudo with a snicker. “Don’t we, Neville?” She then looked over toward Neville, who was standing off to the side. “I see you met my manager already. Neville?” And when she said this, he smiled and nodded.
“Yep,” grinned Neville. “He was waitin’ for us over in the VIP lounge. Easy to find in that crowd, I can assure you. Big as a fuckin’ tree. And speaking of VIP’s, we need to go over and show our faces, princess. A lot of big wigs showed up this time. Gotta make ourselves available, you know? Press is there, too, and you can bet your ass they’ll be wantin’ to talk to you.”
Ozzie then stood up straight and looked over at him. “Sure man, that’s no problem. Hey, let’s all go on over! They got plenty o’ food there...’n I been makin’ some new friends ever since I found the place. Lots of ’em. ’Ole Nick Grigsby seems like a nice fella’. Met his wife, too. She was a real sweetheart.”
Neville gave out a pffft, then commented, “Nicholas Grigsby? You mean the CEO of Global Music? You got on well with that old codger? Good God, you must be a real charmer.”
Shamiso smirked, “Oh yes, Neville. Stuffy bastards like ’im don’t scare us. My Ozzie doesn’t give a shit who the hell they are, mate. And besides, I bet that geezer Mr. Grigsby loves us. He’s rakin’ it in by now, I’d imagine.”
“Yeah, that’s probably so,” stated Neville. “But that’s not the issue, kids. We can’t all go back there together and you know it. Sorry Ozzie. These two can’t ever be seen together when we’re out on tour. You know about the situation by now, don’t you? The concerts? What we’ve been doing...to try ’n hide our little secret regarding the performances?”
Ozzie did. Only he hadn’t connected all the dots quite yet. “So you mean...they don’t know ’bout all this stuff either? Them folks at the record company? They don’t know ’bout Shamiso? ’Bout Rudo havin’ a twin?”
Neville rolled his eyes and groaned. He had no idea how uninformed Ozzie truly was about their situation. He could only sigh when he realized they’d have to explain it to him. Luckily, Shamiso was quick to fill him in on the details.
“See, Sweetie, we can’t go around showin’ everybody what’s really goin’ on up there on that stage...or word ’ll get out I’m just lip-syncing. Rudo is doin’ all the singin’ while I perform out front—you know that right? If them blokes at the production company knew, we’d be proper fucked. Neville, see, he thought up the idea eight months ago, ’n fans have been diggin’ it. You saw ’em. They were havin’ a great time, weren’t they?”
“Hell yeah!” proclaimed Ozzie. “Folks were havin’ a ball out there. But it’s really yer sister up there singin’? Is that what y’all ’ve been doin’ all these months?”
“Mmmm-hmmm. Same as you and your dear brother pulled off back in Texas. We sort of switched up identities so we could continue the tour. Neville thought we could fool ’em as long as Rudo stayed in the back. Didn’t you see her behind them keyboards...wearin’ the head phones...pretendin’ to be doin’ special effects ’n shit? That was me sis beltin’ it out while I danced around and pretended to be singin’ them songs. So far, no one’s figured it out. They think she’s part of the band.”
Ozzie rolled his eyes happily. What an excell
ent idea. This way Shamiso could do all the stage antics that her sister once did, with her biologically much younger body and dexterity. No wonder the crowds were flocking to her shows. “That’s incredible. No...I never noticed,” he replied, laughing. “I just thought it was you doin’ all that yerself.”
“Well, it was. Let me tell you, Sweetie, it’s hard work up there. Sweat like a pig. Yell me head off at those tossers screamin’ back at me all night. Bet it’s as hard as that shit you’re doing...or nearly as hard, anyway. Only difference is those people aren’t tryin’ to kill me, like in Megaball. By the way—you sure you don’t wanna sit down? I bet you’re exhausted after playin’ a match.”
“Yeah,” interjected Rudo, agreeing with her sister, “why don’t you two lovers relax for a while. Neville’s right. I should get dressed ’n head next door to the VIP reception and do some mingling. Kiss a few asses. Fuck with the media. It’s free publicity, you know? Have a seat and let us toddle off while you two catch up on things...if you know what I mean.”
Ozzie chuckled, and his head started pounding even harder. The pill he’d taken back at the stadium in the locker room was apparently starting to wear off. “Okay. I guess that’d be a good idea, now that you put it that way. Kinda dizzy from the hit I took in the game. Real slobberknocker, let me tell ya’.”
Rudo then went back to the bathroom and got dressed in a skimpy cocktail dress. Neville meanwhile took a look out into the hallway and flagged down a security guard to go over and tell the folks back in the reception room that Rudo was on the way, just so they wouldn’t get impatient.
After a few minutes, Rudo was dressed and touching up her makeup while Ozzie sat back in one of the two recliners and heaved a heavy sigh. Neville came over and handed him a capsule. “Here, mate,” he said. “Take this. It’ll help with your headache.” Though Ozzie hesitated at first, Shamiso quickly convinced him.
